


Tantamount Turnover

by Atzen_Mierge



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Boris can talk but rarely does, Boris is sassy?, Boris the nice wolf, Cadaver Boris, Gen, Henry's thoughts, More Cadavers to come, Only know up to Ch. 3 but will still continue, Sammy is Sammy, Slow updates because of internet, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atzen_Mierge/pseuds/Atzen_Mierge
Summary: Henry returns to the studio only to get trapped. Now he's trying to get out but the ink demon won't allow him. At least that's what it seems.Built off of my "Misinterpretations" work - you do not need to read it to understand the story.





	1. Greetings! -Your pal, Joey Drew

**Author's Note:**

> It was a long time coming but I'm finally posting it. I'm currently working on chapter 7 right now and I haven't posted the others (though I have reviewed and revised them ~5x now) because I can only do so at school and I use my free time for doing work. Animation is swamping me right now and it still will in the future so sorry if updates of slow but I promise that I will dedicate myself to finish this.  
> -For those who's read my Misinterpretations work and has requested to turn it into a full fledged story, I delivered. Those of you who haven't read it, you don't need to read it but I would recommend it.

Through the forest, a car wove its way along the chipped, leaf-blanketed road. It headed towards the decrepit studio that the road led to, left abandoned after a great questionable amount of years. The car parked, door opening and suspension creaking as Henry got out. Looking up at the studio was quite a nostalgic sight. Henry gazed fondly at the shambled place, the only memories coming to mind being fond and causing him to sigh. Shutting the car door, Henry walked up to its familiar door.

Entering through the decayed door of the studio did not bring any surprise. He expected Joey to be there to greet him but that was not so. The only thing that greeted him was the smell of rotting wood, ink, and a lot of dust. He looked at the letter again. Yep, right place but probably not the right time or date. The letter never specified that. So he took his first steps in, the floorboards creaking awfully loudly which caused him to walk near the wall a bit more. ‘Don’t want to fall through,’ he thought.

In the main room he came upon a running projector. ‘Odd,’ shot through his head. He went over to check it out and found there was no film. He vaguely remembered the layout of the studio so he ended up just wandering about and found his desk at some point that sprung up fond memories. From what he could guess, he had to turn on the ink machine somehow and that was soon revealed in the pedestal room. Funny, he could’ve sworn that the room was supposed to be something else, but he couldn’t remember what. Turning his head to his left revealed, to his horror, a cadaver. Looking back at the pedestal room one last time, he tentatively but quickly reached the room.

It was Boris. A cadaver of Boris. “Joey what were you doing?” Henry asked to nobody, bewildered beyond belief that there could be such thing as a cadaver of Boris. Toons are only made to be real in mind but not in physicality. Even if Henry tried to rule Boris as just a prop, it looked too real to be so. He decided he needed to leave this behind and hurried back to the pedestal room, looking back a couple times with a perplexed, terrified look. What was he going to have to expect next from this place?

Apparently a Bendy cutout when he decided to exit the pedestal room. The thing spooked him a little bit and it made him question who put it there. Maybe Joey was here after all.

He quickly gathered the items needed, the place not being so big after all, and got spooked yet again with a Bendy cutout, that moved this time, when going to find the pressure button. Once he got done with finding the items and restoring the flow, he went back to the pedestal room to pull the lever but found that he was a bit skeptical about doing so. He pulled it anyways and what resulted from it was the room turning dark the instance after. ‘Okay…,’ Henry’s edge only sharpened when there were large booms and creaks throughout the building. No doubt the ink flowing again but the foreign sound still put Henry off.

But if the ink was flowing, wouldn’t the machine be leaking? That wouldn’t be good, maybe turning on the machine wasn’t the right idea. He went to the ink machine room to check his hypothesis but came short when he noticed the doorway was boarded up. He paused and then crept towards the block-off. The light in the room was bright and flickering and the air coming from it was hazy from warm ink interacting with the cold air and making the room pungent with the smell of ink. Getting a look into the room, he could see ink pouring out of the machine, just as he thought.

Then a hand was suddenly in his face. Henry reflexed back, getting a brief look at the owner of said hand as it tried to grab at him. It looked familiar. The thing quickly sunk down, Henry becoming exceedingly frightened as he realized the thing was probably made out of ink and that it could turn up on the other side of the barrier to get him. He didn’t question the validity of anything in the studio after seeing Boris’ corpse, so his reason was alright to assume. With that Henry bolted down the hallways and headed for the door as ink began to flood, but just before he could reach his goal he stepped on the loose floorboards and the whole floor fell down with it, including Henry.

Henry grunted from the fall but got up quickly due to adrenaline and looked up to see if the thing had followed him. All he could see was the ink dribbling down the sides of the shaft’s wall. Dribbling? Shouldn’t it be pouring down? He didn’t linger on that question any longer, going to try and find a way out of the room he was in so that the thing wouldn’t come back.

He found a staircase that was flooded with ink at the bottom, but that was the only way he could go to get out. Walking down the steps and into the ink, he spotted a valve and went over to turn it, the ink quickly leaving through the floor. He had expected that thing to come out of the ink again, but that was not the case. Thinking about it more, Henry thought the “thing” looked very similar to Bendy, despite the odd proportions. Maybe it was? It wasn’t too far fetched in Henry’s mind.

Continuing down, he had to go into the ink again to clear the second stairwell and go on. He entered another room, this time, as he observed, there was an axe hanging on the wall. His legs immediately went to its direction to retrieve it. Feeling a bit safer since he’d gotten a weapon to defend himself, he continued on into the hallways, occasionally breaking down a wall of boards that was in his way.

Henry hacked down the rest of the wooden boards and opened the door that they previously blocked. ‘Oh no,’ Henry thought as his eyes locked onto the pentagram drawn on the floor. Everything started to shake but he was still. He crept into the room and got distracted by the sight of the coffins. He stepped a bit into the pentagram and the last he saw were images flashing before his eyes before it all went black.


	2. A Stairwell Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a long while guys. For some reason I wasn't able to access this site on my computer at both the schools I go to and my own house. I am, however posting this from my dad's so it might have something to do with the internet. Anyways here it is and since it's been so long I am going to posting more in succession after this one. Also I have a whole week of Winter Break so hopefully this story gets more done.

Waking up did not feel good. He was brought to consciousness by the ringing in his head. Henry grunted as he tried to get up but only managing to prop himself onto his elbow. The fall from earlier was sending aches through his being and he was pretty sure collapsing only added to it.

Henry winced. “Oh my head. What happened?” The question was answered with silence. Henry begrudgingly hefted himself up, rolling over and wheezing as his muscles and joints continued their protest. It was a relief when he managed to stand up. He was wobbling a bit as his head was still shifty but he was able to hold his ground.

Moving over to his ax only caused his head to waver more.

'Damn, I don't know what happened but that really did a number on me. Nonetheless..,' Henry bent down and grabbed the ax.

“Press on.” Henry thought he could go back the way he came but when he checked the ceiling of the stairwell had apparently collapsed. How inconvenient though it wasn't like there was much to go back for anyways. He was pretty confident that he wouldn't be able to climb that hole he fell through, nor did he want to chance meeting that thing- Bendy again.

Yea. It was Bendy. Henry wished his brain hadn't pulled that encounter to the forefront of his mind.

Henry went over the only other exit in the room and started hacking away at the boarded up door. Behind it was another stairway downward. If he could remember correctly, the place underneath the above building was the music department. Gosh it had been long time.

At the end of the stairwell, which struck Henry as odd, was some sort of offerings from what it looked like- though what was in the bowl he did not want to know. The scrawl that read ‘HE WILL SET US FREE’ only proved that point. He looked around the area and there was another tape recorder like last time. Curiosity got the best of him as he pressed play. It was Sammy’s voice. Henry expected drawl on how he hated working for the studio but instead was met with Sammy praising. Huh.

“I said: Can I get an amen?” The voice came from nowhere and it was insistent. He knew it wasn’t from the recording since the voice came after the button for play clicked back off. He didn’t know where the voice could’ve came from and the only explanation he could muster was either this place was haunted or something was in the walls. In his opinion, Henry wanted it to be the former.

He continued nonetheless but more cautiously. He did say to press on, did he not? Not even ink would stop him. Not even a kiddie pool of it that was filling up an entire hallway.

Why was there more ink? He had already been drenched in it from the stomach down, so now wasn’t an excuse to back out. He stepped one tentative foot in and then the other. The ink was cold and slimy with separation like it hadn't been moved in a long while. The feeling sent a shiver up Henry's spine and he hoped that that feeling would go away once he reached dry ground. He tried to speed through this area but the ink here was much thicker which Henry knew was hue to evaporation. 

Through his trudging, he looked up just in time to see someone walking through the hallway in front of him.

“Hello! Excuse me!” The figure kept walking but Henry was determined to get their attention and tried to wade faster through the ink.

“Can you help me?” Henry made it onto the other side and turned in the direction the person went. He did not see him; he wasn't even there. It was like the figure that walked across the doorway had merely been a ghost or a figment of his imagination which he knew wasn't true. He glanced the opposite way and then looked back again. Maybe he missed him? Though that was impossible.

His questioning “Hello?” was called with much uncertainty.

‘I wonder where he could’ve gone,’ Henry thought. Did he scare them off? He had no clue. He walked up to the Bendy cutout that laid against a pentagram drawn in ink. Henry looked to the side of it and noticed a hole in the wall. The person probably went in there. So the latter thought of things being in the walls were true.

Henry continued on down the hall and was going to turn down the next but was stopped by a barrier. Looking to the 3 lights beside the door, Henry remembered there was a sort of security to the Music Department so that anyone trying to break in and steal instruments wouldn’t be able to.

‘Ah, so it was the Music Department underneath the first floor,’ Henry remarked. He quickly found the buttons to open the door, having to traverse again through the thick stagnant ink and push some soup cans out of the way for another. Henry had decided to open one of the cans though and try the soup since he didn't know if he'd get another chance to eat again. To say the least it was tolerable and what he found at the bottom of the can was settled grease that had solidified into wax. How appetizing.

Henry pulled the lever and the wall in the doorway rose up slowly like it was a drum-roll for what lay behind it. What was behind it was a small hallway and at the end of it was a boarded up doorway.

‘Well that was anticlimactic,’ Henry humored, his eyebrows raising and eyelids at half-mast as he made an unimpressed face.

Nonetheless he went over to chop down the boards and there was the Music Department in all its glory- kind of. Ink was on the floor and it was dark in the room, and accompanied by the messy placement of the floorboards made it look more damned than glorious. Henry didn’t want to stay here long.

Henry then began a hunt on how to progress through the new area presented to him. What he came upon was a power switch next to an exit stairwell drowned in ink. He pulled that and also expected the ink flooding the stairs to drain as well, but it did not. Oh well, he’d have to find something else like a valve and then he would finally gain his freedom. The power was humming through the place and so Henry continued on to what that might present to him.

The first thing he noted as he turned around was that the sign on the wall, declaring the place as the Music Department, now glowed. ‘Well, at least it’s not as dark anymore,’ Henry remarked. Though that was true, the corners of the place still seemed to be swallowed up in darkness, and taking some light with it too. That was alright though, as long as he could see better Henry wasn’t complaining.

Henry went into a random direction and ended up in the orchestra room. It was just the way he remembered it being. All percussion and bigger instruments were in the back whilst the strings further front that mingled with the arched row of wooden chairs that would’ve had people playing more woodwind instruments. There was no real director’s area but the angled rows of chairs said otherwise. Off across the stage was the piano where Henry vaguely remembered that Sammy would play sometimes to himself when creating music or to correct the band’s tune or notes and play along with them whilst recording.

The nostalgia was getting to him.

Speaking of recording though, Henry gazed up at the white board or sheet (he couldn’t tell due to how old it was) and remembered they’d put up the animation as the band would try and pace with it. Henry’s gaze turned opposite the direction of the faded white back screen to locate the projector and its booth. The projector was still sitting there, as interesting as it was because shouldn’t something during this long period of time have knocked it down? He supposed the person that he saw earlier made sure that the projector stayed where it was perched. Henry looked a bit to the side as the cut-out’s face attracted his attention. It was in the other observation booth. Henry smirked. It was like Bendy was looking out for him.

Henry pushed on through, for he couldn’t have too many distractions otherwise it would take him longer to get to the exit and maybe that thing would eventually find him.

There was that thought again. That thing that looked like Bendy- was Bendy. It was odd to Henry. He only glanced at it’s face once but he could still remember it as though he had looked at it for a millennia, at least it felt that way in the moment he got spooked.

Feet shuffled to a stop in some hallway Henry didn’t remember entering. Also, why was the doorway to the ink machine room boarded up? It wouldn’t make sense for the thing to nail them there because it was trying reach out and get him. Maybe it was the person he saw earlier? There was a door right next to the ink machine room from what he remembered seeing. Still it was confusing because the monster, after just reaching out for him, just sank into the ink and was never seen again. Wouldn’t it at least have tried to continue its pursuit on him? Henry was glad it didn’t, but he still questioned.

That was enough of his thoughts. Henry was able to see into a room that had a lever on it. From his experiences through this place so far, Henry knew that was somehow important. He found that the only door to enter it was locked, and in front of it was a kiddie pool of ink, which Henry was currently avoiding by standing on the dry wooden boards around it and leaning over to test the door’s handle. It was locked.

Henry stood upright again and looked behind him where there was an open door, though it was sill technically closed just not in the latch. Behind the door there was a closet and the first thing Henry saw was another recorder and it was another excerpt from Sammy Lawrence. Sammy’s voice revealed that there was a certain code that had to be played on certain instruments in order to open his ‘sanctuary’ where Joey had apparently installed another ink drainage valve.

Henry trekked back up to where the recording booth was in order to turn on the projector. He didn’t get to though when a thought shot through his head: ‘Wasn’t there a Bendy cut-out up here?’ Henry began looking around a bit more frantically and during so, glaced over the balcony. There was the cut-out. It was just propped up against the wooden chair like it was sitting on it and ready to play some music. Henry would’ve laughed at this if it weren’t for the whole place being unsettling.

Henry turned on the projector and descended the stairs, going to the room below the balcony. He played all the instruments in the correct order but the projector cut off right before he could play the last one.

‘Oh, so it doesn’t want to stay on long huh? Great,’ Henry through as he sighed, walking out of the room again to turn on the projector.

‘Wait, was the cut-out still there?’ Henry looked over the balcony again only to find that there were two cut-outs now. Henry ignored it, turning on the projector and jogging down the steps to play the correct order of instruments. The sanctuary’s entrance wall opened. Henry looked over at the two seats where the Bendy cut-outs should’ve been but weren’t. Taken aback, Henry looked up at the balcony to see there were the two cut-outs looking down at him. Henry decided that he did not like that trick but still found it amusing in a weird way nonetheless.

So much for a sanctuary. It was barren with only the valve and its pipes at the end. Henry proceeded anyways and turned the valve, hearing the ink flow along with some other noises. Henry exited the room and was surprised by the thing that jumped up from the floor right in front of him. The thing swung it’s clawed, gangly arm at him, its fingertips just managing to scrape his shirt as Henry reflexed back to dodge. Henry then bounded forward and remembered the ax that he held in his hand, swinging it at the thing and making it dissipate through the floorboards.

That wasn’t the only one though. More of the same creature emerged out from the ink blobs and came pulling themselves toward him. Henry gave them the same treatment he gave the first, swinging his ax and hitting it, but one of them managed to get his leg. Henry cried out in pain and aimed for the assailant, but it seemed to already have dissipated. Henry kept on swinging at the last of the inky monsters, not wanting to get hurt by one again.

Henry was exhausted, huffing and puffing to feed his body the much needed oxygen but he couldn’t help but feel the weight of a stare on him. Henry looked up and there was that person again. He wasn’t able to make it out earlier, but the mask on the person’s face was that of the head of a Bendy cut-out and it was dirtied with ink. Well that's disturbing. Henry slowly backed out of the room and began to head to the once-flooded stairway.

He would’ve liked to have said that he’d gotten there, but that was not the case because he had to be hit over the head and collapse into unwarranted darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything wrong with this chapter? Let me know because I'd like some constructive criticism. Thanks for reading so far and if you'd like to contribute any ideas for future chapters, let me know and I might write them in! Have a fantastic day you guys.


	3. A Musician's Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just reading the title pretty much says everything that's going to happen in this chapter. I suggest you still read it though- or not, it's your choice.

The darkness ebbed back into the corners of his eyes to give way to the feeling of the veins throbbing in the brain as the back of his head did so more loudly. Henry opened his eyes which let in searing light that had him blink a few times. His vision was still swimming when the dark figure in front of him began addressing him.

He noticed his hearing was coming back as the person continued talking: “-nd tight. We wouldn’t want our sheep roaming away now, would we?” Henry knew that voice from somewhere, like the recordings. The recordings of Sammy Lawrence. This being was… Sammy Lawrence?

“No we wouldn’t,” Sammy continued, Henry’s vision becoming sharp enough to take in more of Sammy’s appearance. He was completely covered in ink and may have even been made up of the stuff. Henry recognized him as the person that passed by the doorway when he was crossing the flooded hallway. The person that had also been on the balcony after he'd killed off those ink monsters.

“I must admit I am honored you came all the way down here to visit me. It almost makes what I’m about to do seem cruel.” That caught Henry's attention.

“But the believers must honor their savior. I must have him notice me.” Sammy paused and leaned closer, querying out loud: “Wait. You look familiar to me… that face…” ‘I would hope you’d remember me. We practically saw each other for years, albeit not pleasantly,’ Henry thought, becoming somewhat anxious now that Sammy was starting to recognize him but he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because of the situation. Sammy could literally do anything he pleased with him because Henry was pretty much defenseless being tightly bound down to a chair.

“Not now,” Sammy dismissed, “For our lord is calling to us, my little sheep.”  
‘Little sheep? What...’  
“The time of sacrifice is at hand! And then, I will finally be freed from this… prison. This inky… dark… abyss I call a body,” Sammy said as if the truth to his words were acrid against his tongue. A thought struck Henry. Sammy would be really good at reciting Shakespeare with the way he was conveying things.

Sammy shushed his thoughts as a rumbling gradually came and went through the place. Sammy got excited and it was twisted.

“Quiet! Listen! I can hear him. Crawling above. Crawling!” Sammy was full on giddy, like how someone would react if they were about to shake a celebrity’s hand. Maybe it was a similar situation.

The rumbling sounded very familiar to when he turned on the ink machine. When Sammy said savior, did he mean that Bendy?

“Let us begin,” Sammy still sounded maniacal but he tried to repress it, “The ritual must be completed! Soon he will hear me… he will set us free.” Sammy walked to a room off to the side. That last statement was more of a hope than a goodbye.

The speakers crackled and Sammy’s chanting came flowing through. There was little to no dust pluming off the speakers so Henry guessed they were recently used.

“Sheep, sheep, sheep. It’s time for sleep. Rest your head. It’s time for bed.” That sounded very familiar to Henry. “In the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead.” 'Okay, maybe not that part,' Henry knew those lyrics were changed. They weren't kid-friendly and they certainly weren't him-friendly either.

All of a sudden Sammy started yelling and calling out to Bendy while the rumbling was quickly increasing to a crescendo. Henry didn't feel right. There was a presence that just reeked. He couldn't really describe the feeling but it was pungent; it was there. Puddles of coagulated ink started to form and dot the ground in the room as the door in front of him rose to reveal, though steam, dark, branching hallways.

Henry struggled with his bounds. He had to get out of there. Although he was almost deaf from the adrenaline rush, Henry was still able to make out Sammy screaming in agony as his savior presumably forsakened him. Henry began rapidly cussing in his head, willing his bonds to finally slacken so that he could run over and grab the ax that was leaning up against a beam- conveniently.

Ax in hand, Henry began running up and swinging at the mass of ink monster- that's a mouthful- searchers. Their inky, grabby hands reaching out to pull him into the abyss so that Henry could also join the ink. Henry was not about to have that anytime soon. He was too focused on the ones backing him up that he forgot where he was going. He wasn't aware of another that had seeped up and was ready to grab at his ankle.

Henry felt like he was in slow motion. All he could hear was his breathing, his blood pounding in his veins, the slice of his ax through the air to meet the offending beings with a liquid pop, and the vague feeling of a presence behind him that had brushed their fingertips against his ankle. His ankle stung. Henry took a small moment to turn and kill whatever had touched him and then went back.

He found it funny how fragile they were against one of the beams, splattering on impact. If anything, he wished he could punch the bastards so that they could begone faster. In the end, he didn't have to wait long as every searcher had been eradicated.

The feeling of relief washed over Henry. He thought that at any moment his heart would burst. He's too old for this kind of excitement. Henry stood there and stared into the hallway. He still felt that same presence; the same aura, pouring through the doorway of the hallway and into the room he was standing in. He knew that was the only way to continue and that there was something down there (most likely Bendy, if Henry had to guess) but right now Henry was taking a breather.

Henry looked over to the door Sammy entered when he went to call Bendy. There was ink slowly spilling from under the door.

'Sammy's most definitely dead...,' Henry thought.

Sighing, Henry started down the hall. His ax wasn't looking its best when he went to chop down the lasting boards blocking his way and he wasn't surprised when it broke. He was, however, hoping it wouldn't break for that was the only weapon that seemed to be present. He'd have to find another soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you read seem wrong? Tell me! I appreciate criticism! Anyways, have a great rest of your day.
> 
> I should say now that I do not own Bendy and the Ink Machine but The Meatly Games. What, too late for that? Eh- oh well.


	4. Challenger Approaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the title? Well get ready!

Henry looked on forlornly at the ax that was in pieces and lying on the ground. Even if he'd tried to repair the thing, the metal, when he inspected, was dull and there were several minor cracks. Was it already like that before or were the plywood and searchers too much? It was probably the searchers. Henry continued down the hallway.

The air seemed to get thicker and thicker as he pressed on. He came across a branch in the hall but it was blocked by wooden crates, barrels, whatever. Henry tried to look past it and even attempted to climb the blockade. He quickly gave up on climbing as there was no getting through the little spaces at the top.

There was that smell again. Maybe it wasn't the aura but the smell. It was almost similar to the smell the ink machine gave off as it poured hot ink from it's- absurdly sized- nozzle, but it had more of an older smell. It still smelt like hot ink but it also smelt of burned rubber along with rotting wood and dust. It wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

“Geez, this hallway is long...,” Henry noted. He'd been left to his thoughts this whole time which wasn't the best thing considering those searchers could come back at any moment.

What he came upon was a whole pool of ink and it reeked. Who knew a room flooded with the stuff could waft so thickly throughout a good area of space. From what Henry knew, any liquid that has not been disturbed for a long while should not smell so much, especially sap. Henry hoped it was just the heat of the liquid or a loose ceiling board that fell. He still had to wade through it though if he wanted to get to the door on the other side, and he was not looking forward to having that smell plastered into his pants.

Henry was inching over to the edge of the pool like a person about to dip their toe in the water to check its temperature when there was a huge splash. He quickly looked up and retracted his foot into a stable stance.

'It just had to be you,' Henry thought as Bendy roared at him and causing all surrounding light to dim. As soon as Henry processed that Bendy had taken the first step to run at him, he turned and fled. Henry raced down the halls, using his hands to help bounce him around corners without loosing momentum.

'Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.-' “Oh shit!” Henry yelled. Great, now his last words were going to be one of the most common phrases. He could see it now: Here lies Henry – “Oh shit.”: written on his tombstone.

'Damn I didn't think this hall was very long!' Henry was panting madly as his legs numbed with overwork and adrenaline which in turn made them more wobbly and he almost tripped. Henry quickly looked behind him to see Bendy quickly gaining on him with his arms outstretched in front of him. The sight caused Henry to run faster, profanity flowing through the floodgates of his brain.

When Henry turned he saw a light at the end of the hall. Henry pushed as much as he could to get to it as he swore he could already feel Bendy breathing down his neck. With heightened fear comes lack of sensibility.

“SPOOOOON!” Henry yelled and with a leap he quickly made it through the doorway, his landing after said bound caused the door to swing shut and lock the door with a wooden door latch.

Henry turned to close the door but that was already done for him. The door rattled as the fist of Bendy pounded on it relentlessly, the loud booms startling Henry and putting him on high alert again. Anymore banging and the wooden latch might give out but luckily for him Bendy had given up, moaning or making some kind of noises as he retreated.

The wooden floor was welcoming when Henry collapsed. He hadn't realized he was holding in his breath and was breathing heavily. He swiped his hand on his forehead to try to at least get rid of the sweat that began to dribble down his face. He didn't want any of his sweat getting into his eyes.

Deciding to sit there for a bit, Henry looked around him. To the side he found a shelf lined with plushes and that was about it. There was another shorter hall that led into another room but that could wait. Right now all he wanted to do was to lay in his comfortable bed again and sleep. Yea its plush mattress and warm and relatively soft sheets sounded really good about now. Maybe a drink too. That would be great. Henry sighed. Now he was fantasizing about his bed. Not the first time he started fantasizing about it but he could tell it wouldn't be his last in his life. And 'spoon'. Really?

Henry needed to get up and move on because sitting around after you've collected yourself wasn't going to get you back to sleeping in your bed any time soon. The room was nothing special. Just a door and another way with some items randomly about, but overall almost empty. Henry did not know what most of these rooms were for because they seemed to serve no purpose but to just be there.

There was a knock. It was was very silent before the sound of rolling occupied the room's almost-empty space. It was a can of one of the many bacon soups. It rolled and hit a chair, stopping it. Henry looked at where the other hall was. He knew something had to move the can, it couldn't just roll out on its own, especially from just a little tap.

“I know you're there. Come on out,” Henry spoke, daring himself to address the suspected someone hidden behind the wall. And if it was that Bendy? Will God have mercy on him.

A couple footsteps and there stood in front of him was none other than Boris.

“Boris?” Henry couldn't believe his eyes. He saw Boris on a table, strapped and dead with the chest cavity open and exposed for all to see. Now he was standing in front of him looking like nothing had even touched or happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read anything you thought was not quite right? Tell me! Constructive criticism is wanted! Or you can tell me what you liked because that helps too. Have a great rest of your day- or night!


	5. Boris' "Inn"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly plainly filler but there you have it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet is free! Hopefully ya'll remember how the story goes right? Right? Anyone? Also, sorry this story is having a slow start but I promise it gets more fun. Fun for you guys to read in this case (I hope). I'm uploading the next chapter after I post this chapter. You guys deserve it.

They both stood there. The silence wasn't awkward but it was odd. Both didn't know they would end up seeing each other. Boris was the one to approach first, being that he felt obligated to since he was the one who was hiding and being suspicious- it was only fair. Boris slowly and cautiously walked to Henry and stopped to extend a hand. Henry took the hand and smiled a bit causing the toon to do the same.

“Since I already know your name, it would be fair if you knew mine. M'name's Henry.” Henry shook Boris' hand once heartily. After the greetings were over, Boris looked over Henry's shoulder, curious about where he came from. He then looked back at him and tilted his head, nodding once towards the direction.

“You don't want to go down there bud. The place is currently off-limits.” Boris' eyes widened in understanding. He knew there were dangers present so he knew to take the man's word for it. So instead of heading that way, Boris offered Henry to follow him back to his safe-haven with a wave of his hand to follow him.

Henry followed him but soon asked where they were going. Just because something seemed friendly down here didn't mean it always was.

“The safe house,” the wolf responded.

Henry looked at him in a bit of surprise, “Didn't know you could speak. Not much of a talker huh?” Henry received no response which made him huff a bit in humor.

They shortly came upon the safe house, Boris ushering him in while holding the door. Boris knew who Henry was as soon as he said his name. It was the same name signed on a lot of the sketches of him and the other toons, even finding the name written all over the papers on a desk. Boris figured that this person could be a different Henry but what were the chances of a different Henry walking into a place like this? But Henry didn't have to know that he knew who he was, he thought telling him wouldn't be necessary.

“Mind giving me a tour?” Henry looked on at Boris, breaking him out of thought. Boris nodded, motioning for Henry to follow him. The place wasn't the biggest (being approximately as big as a one bedroom apartment- which it kinda was) but it was doable. After the tour Henry concluded that this place used to be a break-room since there was a kitchen and a bathroom with stalls.

While Henry was wandering around a bit more to help get more familiar with the place, Boris was cooking up some bacon soup from the can that he accidentally kicked before he met Henry. The soup was done fairly quickly and was put into bowls. Boris then went to get Henry but found him inspecting the mural collage that was supposedly some kind of toon.

Henry turned to him, hearing Boris approach, “Food?” Boris nodded. They both sat down to eat their meal. Henry took one spoonful and noticed the difference in flavor. “This soup is better hot than cold,” Henry noted as Boris nodded in agreement. Henry then started wondering about the expiration date on the can. Yea, he ate the soup last time but that was because he was hungry and didn't know if he could find anything else to eat- which he was correct on assuming. Now, since it seemed that he was going to be eating it more frequently, it might be good to know in case he didn't get food poisoning.

“Uh, Boris do you know what the expiration date is for the soup?” Boris looked at him for a moment, squinted his eyes, and then tilted his head in confusion.

“You haven't checked the date?”

“What's an 'expiration date'?” Boris asked.

“You know that food starts to rot right?” Boris nodded. “The date tells when the food begins to rot.” Boris 'Oh'ed in understanding. Henry excused himself, getting up to inspect the soup can. Henry picked it up, turning it this way and that, under and over- being careful not to spill its warmed contents. There was no expiration date. Henry frowned and went back to his place at the table.

“There's no expiration date.” The soup didn't smell or taste bad so it must still be alright to eat. Boris watched Henry just to see if it was still okay to eat the soup. Henry's brows piqued for a sec in a 'well, bottoms up' kind of gesture and then he continued to eat again, Boris followed when he assumed it was alright to eat.

With something in his stomach, Henry was getting tired. Adrenaline can keep you awake and alert but the tax, in the end, is that it saps all your energy. Henry stood to dispose of his dishes and sigh.

“Hey buddy, do you have a spare cushion around? Or blankets?” Boris nodded, standing to dispose of his dishes quickly and waving past Henry to follow him. Boris brought Henry to his room and gestured to his hammock.

“I don't want to take your bed, Boris.” Boris shook his head and gestured again but insistent this time. Henry looked back at him uneasily.

“I can sleep on the floor, no need to take your bed-,” Boris lightly shoved him.

Henry turned around, “Boris-” Boris shook his head, a pout on his face with eyes closed and arms crossed, defiant to Henry's denial. He stomped cartoonishly over to the door, all the while avoiding to look at Henry until he spun around in the hallway. Looking him strait in the eye, Boris pointed at Henry and then at the Hammock. Boris and squinted his eyes as if warning: “I better see you sleeping in that hammock and not on the floor when I come to check on you.”

The door loudly shut behind Boris after he'd spun around to depart, leaving Henry back to his lonesome. He sighed. Boris was very insistent on him sleeping in his hammock. Henry wondered if it really was alright for him to do so. He didn't know where else the wolf might sleep. A yawn dampened Henry's selfless worries, making him roll onto the hammock.

Henry stared at the ceiling for a while as his eyes became heavy. His mind was going increasingly wild with questions about his experiences so far in the studio. Everything was mashing together into one big clot of questions but the last question his brain conjured was: 'What time is it?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm expecting a critique.... I said I'm 'expecting' a critique.... you don't have to post it but it would be encouraged.


	6. We're off to see the demon, the terrible demon of ink!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yea! They're gettin' out! Maybe that shouldn't be a good thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! As promised! Now read. I have to keep writing new chapters and lately I've been loosing interest in this- but I will kindle interest's fire!

The days seemed to bleed together during his time in the safe house. On most days, Henry and Boris would play cards as it was pretty much the only thing there was to do. Boris didn't like to talk much and preferred to growl and gesture as Henry soon learned but that didn't mean he couldn't have conversation with the toon wolf.

They had both finished another game of cards, Henry being the winner, when he sighed with boredom. Looking at the door behind him, he knew he had to get out of the studio. Being safe and not having to constantly be on his toes was nice but he knew everything has to eventually come to an end. Henry was becoming restless and they were running out of food.

It would be next morning when Henry announces to Boris what the plan was. Boris just stared at him. That's when it occurred to Henry.

“Let me guess. You're going to keep the lever hostage until I make you something to eat.” Boris smirked sheepishly.

Henry sighed and smiled, “Alright buddy, I'll get something cooking.” With that Henry wandered off. Despite having food around, they never kept it in the same place as it was still scattered about. With the amount of food being low, it was beginning to get harder and harder to find more cans of bacon soup. Henry couldn't remember where the soup can was placed last. Was it on the barrel? No, he used that one yesterday. Was it in the corner of where Boris' clothes was hung up to dry? No, don't remember seeing one there. Henry scoured his brain in search of where he last saw a can of soup. The quicker he found it, the faster they could head out and escape.

Henry had been looking for a can for about ten minutes now and he was getting a little frustrated. He knew there had to be a can around somewhere. Racking his brain for places he hadn't searched yet, he headed to the bathrooms again. Standing in front of the stall door, Henry wondered if there was a can behind it. The stall had been closed and stuck during the entirety of his stay in the safe house. Henry grabbed hold of the handle and pulled back forcefully. The door creaked but did not budge.

'Great..,' Henry's mind supplied. “Looks like I'll have to get some tools.” Henry went to the bedroom and kneeled down to open the box that lay under the hammock. He was originally just going to grab a tool but he found that there was a can of bacon soup in there and instead grabbed that. Feeling achieved and relieved that he didn't have to pry open a door, Henry sauntered to the stove to begin preparing and cooking the soup.

Like always, it didn't take long until the soup was warmed up and done. Prepping, making, and serving the soup was mechanical to him at this point. He served the soup to Boris and sat down to eat his last meal before heading out.

Boris scarfed down the soup like he hadn't eaten it since forever, licking the bowl clean and everything. Henry was not so enthusiastic about the soup since by now it tasted like nothing. Henry guessed it was probably just a toon thing: exaggerated and intriguing to watch. Boris placed a toolbox on the table after he deemed his bowl clean; fed and content.

Finishing up soon after, Henry opened the box and took out the lever, weighing it in his hands. 

'Gotta find a way out. Press on.'

The lever clicked into place as it was then pulled down. The gears, pulleys, and whatever else was part of the mechanism clunked and whined as it pulled the metal doors open. What lay beyond the door was a turning hallway, a fresh sight which was enticing to Henry as he'd been holed up in the safe house. Boris placed his hand on Henry's shoulder before he could take a step into the new area. Henry turned to him questioningly. Boris whined with a concerned face.

Henry softly smiled in reassurance, “Yea I'm sure Boris.” Boris removed his hand and the two navigated the halls. It wasn't long until the hall became dark. It was like a whole different part of the studio. The sounds of working mechanisms along with the smell of burning rubber echoed and wafted from dark hall ahead of them.

“We'll need a light,” Henry stated whilst beginning to look around but as soon as he'd said that, he found a torch.

“Ah, this'll do. Hopefully it still works,” muttering the last part, Henry turned on the switch with his thumb and the thing blinked to life. The torch looked powerful but the light it shown was that of a regular torch, albeit a little bigger. Henry glanced to Boris that said 'get ready' before heading into the darkness.

The whirring walls around him filled the air like background noise. The place wasn't the most unsettling but the thick pillars of ink put him off somewhat. That wasn't the most of his problems though, so he continued on until he heard some noises that stood out from the drone of the machinery. It sounded eerily similar to when he was tied up. Sammy said the noise was of 'his lord'. If that was the case then Henry hoped that he wouldn't encounter the ink demon because he didn't have a weapon and he hadn't yet mentally prepared himself completely.

Henry and Boris paused to see if it would continue and to gauge where the invasive noises were coming from.

“Did you hear that?” What followed was a very tense pause. Boris didn't know what he should respond with so he just shook his head.

“Me neither.” It was fine to ignore that noise right? Both Henry and Boris hoped so. They continued on through the dark halls until they reached a lit room, Henry turning off the torch. Both looked around. There was a double-door in front of them but there was no way to open it, or any indication of one in this case.

'I swear Joey. You got some explaining to do.' “I don't suppose you know how to get us out of here?” Boris perked up. Comically he took out a wrench from one of his pockets by tossing it in the air and catching it. He then held out his hand for the torch, Henry handing it to him curiously intrigued.

Boris knelt down to a grate, pulling it off and setting it down ever dramatically, and then turning on the torch as he went into the shaft. The shaft was big enough to fit him but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't cramped. Each step of a limb caused the metal beneath him to bow which in turn caused it to boom. Boris was getting worried he might fall through what he guessed was sheet metal. Looking ahead of him he saw the shaft devolved into a dark hall filled with even more machinery. Boris crawled out of the shaft and onto the metal plating that was being held up by suspension cords and thin metal poles. Boris began inspecting the machinery. There were gauges, gears, tubes, wires.... There it was! Boris walked over to a box that had written above it in ink: Machine Ward K, Door B. This had to be it. Boris held up his wrench.

Some clanging was heard, a piston, some steam, and then the doors in front of him grandiosely opened way for him. Well, if you call screeching and shaking grandiose. Henry waited for Boris to come back out but he couldn't hear any movement or any indication of Boris from the shaft.

“Boris?!” Henry tried calling out to him, only to hear his echo come bouncing back at him. He tried calling out a could more times before he sighed in concerned defeat. Henry wondered if Boris was or would be ok. Henry lingered a bit before he headed down through the newly granted area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of writing more chapters for this series, I've been thinking up of more other AUs. They're just summaries and plotlines. One's a full-on story though! It's also Bendy and the Ink Machine and I will be posting it after posting this. If you'd like to check it out, it's called "Watch This!" Also, I may be revising this whole story in the future because I am not happy with the first few chapters but eh- not until I finish this one. Now, can I get a critique?

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is highly obliged. I understand that I might miss some things so there will be edits to it now and again.


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